


Christmas Extravagance á la Tony Stark

by AngeNoir



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-07 10:34:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1118870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngeNoir/pseuds/AngeNoir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On December twenty-second, Steve walked into the gym and stared at the tinsel and lights woven around the ropes of the boxing ring, outlining the mirrors, and the nativity scene in the corner by the free weights.</p><p>“Oh come <em>on</em>.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Extravagance á la Tony Stark

**Author's Note:**

  * For [morphia-writes](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=morphia-writes).



> So I feel that this season is more supposed to be about family than anything, which probably has something to do with how I and my family do not celebrate Christmas and so just wanted to write a story about non-traditional holidays. I'm very sorry if it's not something you were looking for. I tried to keep the angst light and not very present (beyond canonically bad childhoods and miscommunications).
> 
> Stony Secret Santa gift for [morphia-writes](http://morphia-writes.tumblr.com).

Steve walked into the shared living room and stopped dead, staring at the oversized tree and the ridiculously huge ornaments hanging from the boughs. Tinsel and popcorn strands practically covered every needle, so that it was impossible to really see the green of the tree. Underneath the tree – and around it in a huge half-circle – lay boxes upon boxes, each one larger than the next.

Steve squinted at the blinding display and then glanced over at Clint.

“Hey, don’t look at me; I woke up and this was here.”

Which meant it had happened overnight, since it was currently seven in the morning and Clint normally woke up at five – and, when everyone had gone to bed at eleven last night, this had most decidedly not been present.

“Is there a reason it’s up?” Steve asked slowly.

Clint stared at it, and then looked over at him. “Christmas?” he tried.

“It’s November twenty-eighth.”

Wincing a little, Clint shrugged and turned back to the book in his hands. “Don’t look at me, man, he’s your boyfriend.”

 

* * *

“Someone needs to tell him he’s overdoing it,” Bruce announced one morning.

Steve glanced over at the doorway – Natasha and Clint were already up, eating some of the pancakes he’d made, and tried not to grind his teeth. The tower was, after all, Tony’s, and if Tony really wanted to get into the swing of the Christmas spirit, who was Steve to say anything? Even if everyone was heavily implying that he ought to do something to curb the extravagance.

“What did he do now?” Natasha sighed.

It was the morning of the nineteenth of December, and Steve had to admit he had no idea what Tony could possibly do to increase the festivities around the tower. Come December first, the outside of the tower had danced with red and gold while the light of the ‘A’ and the top of the tower shone a steady green. December fifth, and every elevator within the tower – even the Avengers’ private elevators to their rooms – played nothing but Christmas music nonstop. December eighth, and the ceilings were strung up with blinking lights and displays, proudly displaying words like ‘joy’ and ‘happiness’ and ‘feliz navidad’ (which Steve had had to look up, because of the many languages he knew, Spanish was not one of them). December eleventh, and mistletoe had appeared in _every_ doorway everywhere, even down in the business part of the tower. December fourteenth, and a tree appeared in _every room_ , including the Avengers’ private quarters. Thankfully, not as large as the one in the main room, but decent-sized enough to give Steve a heart attack because he thought it was an intruder. It wasn’t very far in his room – none of their personal trees were – which indicated that Tony had probably undone their locks and just placed the tree inside while they were away at a SHIELD training exercise, but still. Tony had come into his _room_. December seventeenth, and light-up reindeer joined the trees in any public space.

“Have any of you been down to the lobby today? Or, for that matter, walked in any of the hallways? I’m pretty sure it’s fake snow, but it’s pretty damn cold and I do not appreciate little elves staring at me as I walk from my door to the stairs.”

Steve paused, because of course they had all walked down the hallways. Each one of them had a floor but the two elevators (and the flight of stairs) that connected their floors were set outside their quarters, down a hallway. To get to the elevator (or stairs) and get to the shared kitchen required the use of the hallways. He hadn’t seen anything like what Bruce was describing when he’d come here to make pancakes. He was pretty sure Natasha and Clint also hadn’t seen something along those lines.

When the hell did Tony have time to put that up?

Clint pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I think,” Natasha said slowly and deliberately, “that the giant bunny Pepper mentioned was not an exaggeration after all.”

“I do not want to know,” Steve said resolutely.

 

* * *

On December twenty-second, Steve walked into the gym and stared at the tinsel and lights woven around the ropes of the boxing ring, outlining the mirrors, and the nativity scene in the corner by the free weights.

“Oh come _on_.”

 

* * *

The twenty-fourth of December found Steve trying to figure out how to approach Tony. When Steve was young, he could remember Mr. Feeny, an old man who absolutely adored Christmas. Of course there was nothing as gaudy as what was available today, but the enthusiasm Mr. Feeny’s voice held when telling stories about Santa to the young children echoed the enthusiasm he saw in the decorations, huge gifts, and his boyfriend’s manic energy. Tony didn’t have a lot of time for Steve during this month, with charity ball after business galas after award ceremonies after organization fundraisers. Sure, sometimes Steve went along with it, but on the whole Steve didn’t actually enjoy Christmas that much. And he was pretty certain none of the other Avengers did, either.

Oh, it was pretty to look at, no doubt about it. Steve marveled at the beautiful decorations in Times Square and along the roads, the effort people put forth to have some kind of holiday spirit even when they were struggling. But Bruce – if Bruce wasn’t an atheist, he surely wasn’t a big Christmas celebrator. He seemed far more inclined to let the season pass by unnoticed. Clint was vocally upset with everything Christmas-related, whether or not he celebrated it apparently. Natasha seemed very private, and any religious significance the season held for her was something she dealt with behind closed doors. Thor, of course, had no such celebrations in his land and certainly had no use for them now. And Steve – Christmas for Steve meant his mother working longer, harder hours. It meant that Bucky and Bucky’s highly Catholic family went to church, while Steve stayed home. Sometimes Christmas meant a bit of money for art supplies, ice skating and hot pies, but in general Christmas was not important to him in the long run. And this continuous shove of festivities, bright lights and flashy displays, only made him all the more uncomfortable.

To be honest, while Steve wouldn’t turn his nose up at a large, extravagant team dinner, the season, holidays, and everything else was unnecessary rituals that he didn’t want to partake in if he had the choice.

He didn’t want to bring it up to Tony. Obviously, the older man had fond memories of this season, what with the way he was deliberately surrounding everyone with decorations and the like. Just because Steve was tired of it didn’t give him the right to talk down to Tony or yell at him for indulging.

Still, finding that the kitchen had been turned into a winter wonderland, with fake snow, mini evergreens, wreaths on every cabinet, and candy canes hanging from the bottom of every cabinet, was the last straw. Yes, it was Christmas Eve, but Steve felt that if he didn’t say something, tomorrow he might wake up to find actual live reindeer standing in the living room. Steve needed to say something to let Tony know that while the team ‘appreciated’ the decorations, they were getting worn out and there really needed to be some kind of braking mechanism on this seasonal madness that had gripped Tony. He didn’t know how to tell Tony, but as Tony’s boyfriend, it kinda fell on him to say _something_.

Which was why he as standing outside Tony’s workshop, trying to think up the best way to approach the older man.

Finally, muttering under his breath, he keyed in his code and watched the opaque workshop walls clear as the doors slid open. However, the man he expected to see in the room was conspicuously absent.

Which was odd, because while Tony had had a lot of parties and the like to attend, he always told Steve when he was going out. When he wasn’t out, he’d been in the workshop as of late. Tony came into their shared bed late and left early, or never came in the first place. Steve had expected him to be here.

Well. Clearing his throat, and feeling foolish for not doing this in the beginning, he lifted his head. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

Steve paused. The Avengers as a whole had lived her a while, long enough that the AI, JARVIS, had warmed up to them a little. This was primarily seen through the fact that JARVIS reordered groceries and brands that each Avenger liked, attempted to assist each Avenger when said Avenger called on him, and generally spoke to them with their names and not a title, though they all noticed he still called Tony ‘sir.’ It’d been a while since Steve had been ‘Captain Rogers,’ and made him worry that something was up with JARVIS. The fact that the British voice was cool and clipped also made Steve believe something was up.

“Is Tony okay?” Steve asked, finally. Tony was the first thing JARVIS cared about, Steve knew, and he respected the fact that JARVIS was independent enough to acknowledge and actively protect Tony.

There wasn’t an immediate answer, and Steve felt his heart jump into his throat. Finally, JARVIS said, tone short, “Sir is perfectly fine.”

Right. Steve tapped fingers against his thigh and decided that if it wasn’t Tony, it was something Steve himself had done, either to Tony or to JARVIS himself. Since he didn’t know what it was, and since he’d have better luck asking Tony than JARVIS, he instead asked, “Where’s Tony right now?”

“Sir is in your shared bedroom, Captain Rogers.”

Steve nodded, still trying to put together what he could have possibly done. Maybe JARVIS thought the Avengers weren’t grateful enough for Tony’s efforts? Which, to be fair, was accurate – no one had thanked Tony or made mention of the decorations to him beyond subtly urging Steve to get Tony to ease off on it.

“Hey JARVIS – the decorations are really, really something else,” Steve offered. “Must be like what Tony had as a kid, huh?”

“I would not know what sir experienced as a child, but this is the first time he bothered to do anything about the season in the first place,” JARVIS replied frostily.

That made Steve frown. If this wasn’t characteristic of Tony… why all the decorations? “So Tony’s… never done this before?”

“Never, Captain Rogers. I believe he found the holiday frivolous and boring. Shall I tell sir to expect you, or will you remain within the workshop tonight?”

Steve heard the dismissal and the clear-cut refusal to answer any more questions – which was fine, because he was confused enough to ignore propriety and tact and just ask Tony straight out what was going on with all the decorations and music. “Thanks, JARVIS, but I haven’t seen Tony in a while – I’ll be heading up.”

“As you wish, Captain Rogers.”

Steve made his way into the elevator and leaned against the wall. JARVIS wouldn’t ever tell them when he was upset – and, when they had all first moved in and were still getting used to one another, JAVIS had ended up upset at each one of them at varying times, whether because they didn’t treat him as a person or because they stepped on Tony’s toes or even because they assumed JARVIS was lesser than he was. Tony had brushed it off, explaining that JARVIS was a learning AI and therefore would figure out how to live with them. Still, they’d done their best to live in peace with the AI, and in return JARVIS unbent enough to accept them in the household. But since JARVIS was, still, a computer program, it made it difficult for them to cajole him into telling them why he was upset – because JARVIS would insist that it was ‘illogical’ for him to have moods or emotions that could resemble being ‘upset.’

If Tony was speaking to them, they always ended up asking him for an explanation for JARVIS’s anger. Most of the time, Tony obliged.

Steve exited the elevator and walked down the hallway to their shared room. It used to be Tony’s alone, but Steve hadn’t wanted to force Tony out of his own space, so had moved his stuff into Tony’s room. Tony hadn’t been upset – on the contrary, he’d been pleased, but it did mean that Steve felt a bit disadvantaged sometimes.

Sometimes. Hopefully this wouldn’t be one of those times.

He knocked lightly at the door and then opened it. “Tony?” he called quietly. If Tony was asleep, he didn’t want to wake him up, but—

Steve stared in shock.

Tony grinned, a slow, sly smile that spread over his face. He was nude, and there were no lights except a few candles dancing on the night table and on the dresser. Well, not quite correct; Tony wasn’t entirely nude. His dick was half-hidden under a bright red bow.

Steve swallowed.

“I was getting a bit tired of waiting for you,” Tony murmured under his breath, stretching his body out in a long, lazy line. Steve’s mouth went dry.

“Well,” Steve croaked, and then he cleared his throat. “Well, I mean. This is the first night in a long while that you, you know. Are actually in the bed.”

Tony hesitated, and some of the casual arrogance disappeared from his face. “Do you – Are you mad about that?”

“What? No!” Steve said, shaking himself free from his lust to realize what Tony was asking. “No, I’m not mad. Just – I wasn’t expecting. Um. This.”

Tony stared a moment longer before that assured, arrogant smirk reappeared on his face. Only, now that Steve had watched it fall, he realized it was mostly a mask. “You must like it, though,” Tony purred. “Your ears are red.”

Steve fought to keep from ducking his head. He wasn’t a prude, not after living through a war, but he certainly was unused to having something like _this_ waiting for him in his own bed. It always annoyed him when he blushed, because he _knew_ he’d seen things worse. He’d just never had the same type of freedom to touch and revel in the erotic display as he did with Tony.

“Any special occasion?” Steve asked, stripping off his shirt and draping it on the chair in the corner before undoing the fly of his jeans.

“Um – Christmas?” Tony said, confused. “What else type of occasion would there be? I would remember if our anniversary was around the holidays. Wouldn’t I?”

Steve fought to keep himself from smiling fondly. “It isn’t our anniversary. I was just curious what prompted this display. It’s been a while since we’ve been with one another.”

“And I thought I should remedy that,” Tony said pointedly.

Steve didn’t need any more encouragement – and it was easier to discuss things like telling Tony to ease up on something when they were both sated and pleased with one another. Shoving his pants and briefs down – he’d already removed his shoes – he dumped them on the seat of the chair and knelt at the end of the bed, one hand curling around Tony’s ankle. Rubbing his thumb over the delicate skin there, he brushed his other hand’s fingers up the line of Tony’s calf and thigh. “Beautiful,” he murmured, staring up at the cool blue light that bathed Tony’s chest and created deep shadows on Tony’s face.

Tony smiled, and this was a real smile, not a fake one put onto his face for Steve’s benefit. “You flatter me,” Tony whispered back.

Leaning up, Steve pressed a kiss to the juncture of Tony’s neck and left shoulder, tonguing that spot that made Tony shudder and keen softly. “Lube?” he rumbled against Tony’s skin.

Tony moaned and shifted against Steve’s chest. “Under the… mmm… under the pillow, Steve,” he breathed.

“Good,” Steve said quietly, and then he pulled back, knees straddling Tony’s waist, reaching behind him to drag the tips of his fingers over the length of Tony’s cock. Tony shuddered under Steve’s body and whined a little.

“Let’s see if I can unwrap my present, hmm?” Steve grunted, half-twisting around to get a better look at how Tony had managed to curl red ribbon around his cock.

Tony snorted and began to laugh. “God, Steve, could you be any cheesier?” he chuckled.

“Oh, I could give it a try. What the hell did you use to do this?” Because it looked like Tony had very literally taped the ribbon to his skin, which would make it highly uncomfortable to remove, especially when Tony was aroused. Surely the genius was, in fact, a genius and knew better than to do _that_?

“Ouch! Careful with the goods there, Cap.”

Steve let out a sigh and got off of Tony’s waist, giving his full attention to Tony’s erection. “You get so carried away sometimes, I swear,” Steve grumbled, carefully picking the tape free of skin and doing his best to keep from pulling at Tony’s pubic hair. “Tape, Tony. Who uses tape on their dick?”

A shy, private blush spread over Tony’s cheeks, turning them a rosy hue. “Look, I was just trying to keep the ribbon from sliding around. Be glad I didn’t use the glue that was closer.”

Well aware of how Tony picked up the closest and easiest object that would solve the problem quickly, Steve just shook his head. “Less sense than a gerbil sometimes, I swear,” he teased.

“C’mon. I’m at least a parrot.”

“You’re not an animal at all,” Steve countered, finally getting the trickiest piece of tape off and lowering his head to nuzzle at the slightly reddened and irritated flesh. “You’re my genius who sometimes does very unintelligent things.”

Tony grunted, his dick thickening against Steve’s lips and cheek. “And you’re my Cap who knows how to keep me on task,” he responded.

Steve felt his lips tug up into a smile as he hummed in agreement and gently spread Tony’s legs a little wider, crawling into the space between them. “I guess so,” he agreed.

“You _guess_ so?” Tony began, eyes popping open and squinting at Steve – which was when Steve chose to suck just the head of Tony’s erection into his mouth. He loved it when Tony wasn’t fully hard yet, just slightly soft and still thickening. He loved the feel of it, of Tony growing harder in Steve’s hands and mouth, and Tony certainly had no objections. As it was, Tony’s eyes fell shut again and he let out a breathy whimper.

Grinning against Tony’s flesh, Steve poked Tony’s belly. “Hand me the lube. Might as well get you ready, yeah?”

“You are an evil – _hngh_ fuck you Steve,” Tony groaned as Steve suckled one of Tony’s balls into his mouth. Haphazardly, Tony groped under the pillow and then chucked the lube at Steve’s head – hitting Steve’s nose and his own dick.

“Well, that wasn’t smart of you,” Steve murmured as he picked the tube up and held it in one hand as he nosed at the base of Tony’s erection, feeling the hair tickle his skin. This late in the day – well, really, night – Steve’s own beard was rough stubble, and the sensation was something he reveled in. It felt _right_ , in a way he couldn’t quite explain, and he just rubbed his cheek against Tony’s groin a while until Tony’s hand dug into the back of Steve’s head, fingers tightening in Steve’s hair.

“If you don’t,” Tony gritted, “get some fucking fingers in me or get your tongue on my dick, I’m going to go jerk off in the bathroom.”

Steve couldn’t help grinning up at Tony, quietly popping the cap on the lube and squirting some on the tips of his fingers. “I thought you were my present?”

“That’s it, no more cutesy one-liners from you, pal, or I’m gone,” Tony growled.

Smirking, Steve shifted up onto his knees, bringing his un-lubed hand to Tony’s ass and pulling it up into his lap. “You started it, wrapping your dick up like a present. I’m surprised there wasn’t a box sitting on your dick.”

“Who told you about the dick-in-a-box present?” Tony demanded, half-sitting up on his elbows. “It wasn’t me – was it Clint? That little—”

Steve slid one lubed finger between Tony’s cheeks and rubbed at the fluttering hole there. Tony broke off with a moan

“No, it wasn’t Clint. Your inability to believe I can find out about pop culture references on my own wounds me, you know. I’ll have you know I’m a bona fide strategist and tactician.”

“Unless you’re strategizing the best tactics to get in my ass,” Tony started, and then broke off in a high pitched whine, hands coming out of the sheets to grip the back of his knees and spread himself for Steve. “Aw, fuck, Steve, deeper, c’mon. Missed you so much.”

“All you needed to do was come up here,” Steve hummed, driving a second finger in with his first but keeping his strokes shallow. Tony writhed on the fingers and gasped out curses. “I’m always up for this. Always. Heck, you could wake me up in the middle of the night for this and I wouldn’t complain.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Tony gasped.

Smiling, Steve scissored his fingers, stretching Tony wider, and Tony keened softly, fingers clenching in the sheets. Steve spent a bit more time, listening to Tony grow louder and less coherent, stretching Tony’s ass. It wasn’t that Steve was big – okay, Steve wasn’t small, and he was certainly thick, so yes, Steve was more or less big, but it was that Steve honestly loved the sounds Tony made when something was up his ass. The two of them switched off, here and there, but generally speaking Steve loved just watching Tony come undone, fall apart under his hands. And rimming – rimming could drive Tony past loud into absolute silence, nothing more than gasps and pants and soundless screams as Steve drove Tony’s orgasm out of him.

Though that wasn’t for today. Today, Steve wanted to take his time with his present, string the both of them out, and then possible suggest to Tony that they didn’t need this elaborate mess of decorations to have a good time with one another.

So once four fingers could move, more or less, without catching or spreading, once Tony was gaping a bit, stretched wide, Steve kneeled up and dragged Tony down the bed, pulling Tony’s ass up into his lap while Tony babbled and pleaded.

“Give me a second,” Steve grunted, slicking his cock roughly, pinching a bit at the base so that he didn’t go off like a rocket the minute he got seated, and then he spread Tony’s legs with his palms and _pulled_ Tony’s ass onto his dick.

Tony’s back arched as if Steve had electrocuted him, head thrown back against the mattress and fingers clutched tight in the bedding. With a low chuckle, Steve gained a bit of height, kneeling up, and leaned over Tony’s body, bracing his non-dominant hand against the bed.

Tony stared up at him, flushed, dazed, and Steve rocked his hips just a bit, just enough to make those eyelashes flutter and Tony’s mouth to fall open beautifully. Then, Steve hitched a hand under the small of Tony’s back and began _pounding_.

The first few strokes shoved words out of Tony’s throat, half-formed sounds that ended on Steve’s name as often as it landed on pleas. The next few strokes had Tony’s voice disappearing completely, nothing but animalistic whines and whimpers tearing free from his throat. Steve, however, had intended to do this very slowly, so the minute it looked like Tony was getting closer – Steve suddenly gentled his pace, shifted to barely brushing over Tony’s prostrate with each eased-in push, and Tony let out a sob.

“Shh,” Steve murmured, stretching more out. It was a bit awkward, his knees under Tony’s ass and upper body leaning over but not touching Tony’s upper body, but it placed his mouth at Tony’s chest and that beautiful light shining within it. “Shh, Tony, Anthony,”

“Steve please, please,” Tony begged, hands coming up to dig nails into Steve’s back, clutching tight. “Steve I’ve been so good, please, Steve, _Steve_ —”

Nuzzling his nose over Tony’s neck, Steve lipped at Tony’s collarbone and then bucked his hips hard – once. Tony whimpered piteously, legs falling open, feet planting onto the bed in order to gain another inch of closeness.

“Let me take my time,” Steve murmured quietly against Tony’s skin. “Haven’t seen you for weeks now. So rarely here.”

“All for you,” Tony responded, gasping. “Did it – please yes, please Steve please _yes_ —”

Steve had pushed up off of Tony, gripping the older man’s waist and grinding his cock as deep in as possible, and at Tony’s resumed babble, he smirked. “You’re my present, right, Tony?”

Tony’s eyes opened to slits and he glowered up at Steve – which was completely ruined by his flushed face and chest, his sweat-soaked hair, and his reddened lips – to say, “Steven Rogers if you do not get on with it I will—”

Huffing out a fond laugh, Steve leaned down, threaded his arm behind Tony’s back, and dragged Tony up so they were chest to chest and Tony was sitting on Steve’s lap. The position provided optimal depth, Steve felt, and very little effort to angle it so that every in-and-out stroke dragged over that bundle of nerves near Tony’s entrance. He wanted Tony to come first, because there was nothing he liked more than pounding into Tony’s lax and blissed-out body, and because as much as he had wanted to take his time he was so wound up and it _had_ been so long (okay, not really, but it had been more than a week and they hadn’t had that big of a gap between sex before in their relationship) that he couldn’t wait. Tony was obviously on board with this plan; Tony’s arms looped around Steve’s neck and his forehead fell to Steve’s shoulder where he bit into the meat, bouncing enthusiastically on Steve’s lap to help. All Steve needed to do was place his hands on Tony’s waist and physically manhandle him into grinding onto Steve’s lap, and Tony’s head fell back, rolled limply as he let out a particularly undignified squeal and came over Steve’s and his own abs and even up their chests.

Steve gentled his strokes just a bit, slowing down, letting Tony calm down – he’d learned that Tony was _extremely_ over-sensitized after just coming, but if he waited about a minute, Tony’d be fine with his pounding. And, sure enough, after a bit of just sitting and listening to Tony’s heaving breath slowly even out, Tony grunted and dug his nails out of Steve’s back, running his hands lightly down Steve’s biceps to rest on Steve’s arms.

“Know you’re aching to do it, old man,” Tony slurred, a soppy, silly grin on his face. “C’mon, big boy. Do your worst.”

Steve swallowed. “I want you on your front. Is that okay?”

Tony blinked two slow blinks before smiling again. “Of course,” he said, and his voice was still logy, heavy with sleep and sex. “But you fucked my motor control out of me.”

Steve’s throat clicked and without another word, he lifted Tony up off his dick and shifted Tony onto the bed, face down. Tony moaned and tilted his pelvis up. “Fuck that’s so hot,” he mumbled into the sheets, head turned sideways, and Steve stared at the slick back, the damp hair, the gaping ass presented up to him, and he couldn’t wait. He gripped Tony’s waist and slammed him back onto Steve’s dick, and simply began jack-hammering his way to release.

And just because Tony was out for the night – climax-wise, since he was still holding onto consciousness desperately – didn’t mean that Tony was just a limp body beneath him. No, Tony slid his knees wider, whined when Steve gripped the back of his neck and held him – carefully, he could hurt Tony so badly with this, he was always careful – and generally whispered filth and encouragement to Steve as Steve’s rhythm began to stutter and break down.

“That’s it, fuck me Steve, just fucking use me yes god I missed you fuck yes oh god I wish I was younger and could get hard again and I’m trying my dick is twitching, it wants to – so good Steve so fucking good yes goddamn—”

With a shout, Steve’s muscles clenched and he spurted inside Tony. Tony moaned against the bedding, muttering something about how he loved the feel of Steve’s cum dripping out of his loose hole, and Steve ground his teeth as Tony’s ass, for all that it was lax and sloppy, desperately tried to milk him dry.

Finally, Steve collapsed – thankfully, with enough instinct to do so to the side of Tony and not on top of him (which had taken him a month or two to train into his body). Splayed out on his back, he stared contentedly up at the ceiling before his mind caught up to the small things Tony had said in the middle of their lovemaking that had stuck out oddly to him.

It was enough time for Tony to wiggle on top of Steve’s chest – cum sticky on both their chests, and the arc reactor never was the most comfortable thing to have pressed onto Steve’s chest, and Steve tended to run hot at night and Tony on top of him didn’t make that any easier – and tuck his head underneath Steve’s chin. “The best,” he said drowsily. “The best boyfriend, I swear, Steve, I will make awards for you and medals—”

“You said you – Tony, you said that you were so good, and it was all for me?”

Tony went strangely silent.

If that wasn’t a warning sign in and of itself, Steve wasn’t Captain America. He twisted his head a little, shifting Tony higher so Tony couldn’t hide his face in Steve’s shoulder.

“Tony?”

Tony had his eyes too-casually closed and muttered something under his breath. And – his cheeks were pink. Which Steve might be inclined to put down to fading arousal, but Tony’s arousal was a deep red and only ever appeared briefly as a flush over Tony’s chest and neck; it never touched his cheeks. But why would Tony be embarrassed?

“Tony? C’mon, what gives?” he asked.

There was a long moment, and then Steve murmured, “Please?”

Tony squinted at him with one eye and then let out a defeated sigh. “Dammit, Steve, I hate your puppy-eyes,” he grunted, words still thick in his throat and voice hoarse from his very vocal appreciation of Steve.

“I know,” Steve said smugly, running a hand over Tony’s back soothingly. “Please?”

Tony let out a long sigh, his brow furrowing, and Steve felt vaguely bad for making him frustrated and annoyed. Before he could dwell on that and potentially let Tony off the hook – because he was just as vulnerable to Tony’s desires to avoid all issues and just move on as Tony was vulnerable to Steve’s puppy eyes – Tony mumbled something fast under his breath.

For a moment, Steve just stared at Tony’s squinched-tight eyes and face. Finally, he said, “I’m not sure what you said. Can you repeat that?”

Tony licked his lips but didn’t open his eyes or look at Steve. “I _said_ ,” he mumbled, words slow to come and difficult to hear, “it was – I wanted you guys to have. A good holiday, I guess.”

Steve opened his mouth to answer, because this was the _perfect_ opportunity to explain they really didn’t need this extravagance, but he checked himself and reconsidered his words. “I – it was very sweet, Tony.”

Tony’s head ducked down, and not in shyness or embarrassment, but in shame – his shoulders hunched and body drawing away from Steve. “But?” he asked, voice rough.

Gently, Steve trailed his fingers over the bruises he’d left on Tony’s hips, up over Tony’s sides and curling protectively around Tony’s shoulder. “But we would have had a good holiday with or without it,” he murmured. “I – we know you’re used to big celebrations, but just being with you, maybe having a big dinner with the team – that’s all we really need.” Trying to find some way to alleviate his words, he added conspiratorially, “I think you freaked Clint out with the elves in our hallways.”

But Tony didn’t respond, and Steve grasped at any way to fix what he’d done, even though he wasn’t entirely certain what he _had_ done. “It’s very cute, Tony. Thoughtful, and – and, well, sweet. Obviously, Christmas means a lot to you—”

“It’s fine, Steve,” Tony sighed, pulling further away. “I can get it all taken down. And I’ll know not to do it next—”

“It is _not_ fine, Tony,” Steve replied immediately, following Tony and cuddling Tony close, running his palm over Tony’s hair and the cradling the back of Tony’s head. “I’ve upset you. And JARVIS, somehow.”

That made Tony pause. “How’d you manage to piss off JARVIS?” he asked.

Self-consciously, Steve hitched one shoulder. “I was going to ask you,” he muttered. “I got – distracted.”

Tony chuckled weakly and shook his head, his nose rubbing against Steve’s chest. “Sorry,” he said again, and he sounded so tired. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It was the very best kind of distraction; don’t apologize,” Steve said immediately, and then he continued quietly, “We never did get to thank you, for it.”

“For what?” Tony asked.

Steve hitched a shoulder again. “For the tower. For a home. For the decorations, even if they’re a lot more extravagant than we could ever imagine.”

And maybe it was the post-sex hormones, maybe it was the fact that Steve had Tony curled up against Steve’s chest and so Tony didn’t have to look Steve in the eye, maybe it was the fact that Tony was still deeply hurt by Steve’s reaction, but he whispered against Steve’s skin, “I just wanted to make our first Christmas with our team special. I just – Natasha and you and Clint and Bruce, you never got a Christmas before. I wanted to make it – good for all of you.”

Steve hugged Tony, burying his nose in Tony’s hair. “Oh, Tony, it was going to be special regardless. We don’t want you to go out of your way for all this; we just want you to hang around more. And yeah, maybe we didn’t have a lot of holiday cheer in our childhoods, but we’re okay with that now. We understand that Christmas must be a big deal, but I don’t even know if Bruce is Christian, and I was never Catholic the way Bucky was.”

At that, Tony wiggled back and looked at Steve askance. “Do you mean to tell me no one in the house celebrates Christmas?”

“As the actual religious holiday? No, but you obviously do so you should decorate as you want because it means you care, and—”

“I don’t!”

Steve paused at Tony’s words, and Tony’s shoulders were shaking. “Tony? You don’t – you don’t what?”

Tony’s voice was choked with – something, Steve wasn’t sure what, and Tony wasn’t lifting his head so Steve could get a gauge on Tony’s mood. “I don’t celebrate Christmas!” And suddenly he was laughing, full-body belly laughs that threw Steve for a loop.

“You… don’t celebrate Christmas?” Steve repeated, feeling confused.

It was obviously hard for Tony to get words out around his laughter, but he managed to wheeze, “I mean, I have to go to corporate functions, but it’s always just been a time for me to give gifts to Pepper and Rhodey. It has no significance, but here I am, terrified that I need to make it perfect for you guys, and _no one_ in the house celebrates it!”

The absurdity of it made Steve start to smile, even as he pointed out in fairness, “I’m pretty sure Natasha’s Orthodox, or at least most Russians are. I don’t think she’s practicing, though. And Bruce is atheist, I’m pretty sure. Clint… I dunno about Clint. And Thor, well.”

Tony’s laughs had petered out to chuckling, but he looked seriously at Steve when he said, “And you?”

Steve bit his lip and thought back to Christmas with his mother, when she wasn’t working, and with Bucky’s family sitting on hard pews in the Catholic church, never feeling any real connection to the hymns and sermons though he had liked the spirituality of it, the peace of it. “Christmas for me is more about family,” he finally said. “It’s not really a – a big religious thing, for me. And while I think the greenery is a welcome beauty around the tower—”

“Excuse me, my tower is _always_ beautiful,” Tony grunted.

Steve continued as if Tony hadn’t said anything, “—the decorations and the huge presents, all of that is extra dressing. It’s beautiful to look at, but the core of it is being able to watch movies with you and the team, going ice skating at the Rockefeller Center maybe, drinking hot cocoa and dumping snow down the back of your shirt. But really, Tony, a nativity scene in the gym?”

Tony’s eyes weren’t hurt anymore, and he grinned ruefully. “What can I say?” he said softly. “I wanted you to have everything you couldn’t have as kids. The whole experience, without having to leave the tower.”

Steve pressed a kiss to Tony’s mouth, gentle and loving, and Tony melted into the sheets. “You marshmallow, you,” he murmured against Tony’s lips.

Tony smiled unrepentantly at Steve. “As sticky as one, too. Chop chop, clean us up, old man.”

Laughing, Steve got up off of the bed and pressed a kiss to Tony’s temple. “I have to say this is one of the sweetest things you’ve ever done for us,” he said as he moved into the en suite bathroom, running warm water over a washcloth and pulling spare sheets from under the sink.

There was an incoherent grumble from the other room. Steve couldn’t stop the foolish grin from spreading across his face – Tony always hated being called out on his charity and kindness. When he came back into the room, he tugged the sheet off the bed, scooting it under Tony’s body – because Tony refused to move – and used the cloth to wipe up Tony’s ass and chest and abdomen before cleaning himself off. He threw the spare sheet over the bed, covering Tony completely, and when Tony squawked, he tugged the sheet down to reveal Tony’s mildly disgruntled and embarrassed face.

“I think,” he whispered against Tony’s lips, “that such thoughtfulness deserves a reward.”

Tony stared at him, and then broke the mood with a yawn. Steve threw his head back and laughed even as Tony grumpily folded his arms. “I’m not young anymore, Steve, but I will take a rain-check on that reward.”

Crawling under the blankets and grinning as Tony latched onto Steve like an octopus, Steve murmured, “I look forward to it.”


End file.
